Disclaimer: I do not own of the characters of BtVS or AtS. This all just emulation, baby.

Author's Note: Set after "Apocalypse, Nowish" on AtS and "Sleeper" on BtVS. If you don't watch Angel, some event references might be confusing. Since this was done out of a writer's block I had when trying to update my other story "Fortunate Son" I don't know if I'll continue this since I have an affinity for starting fics and not continuing them, but if I get enough reviews, I may consider continuing this. Also, I don't have a beta reader. I'm far too lazy to deal with a beta. So some slight grammatical errors are inevitable. It shouldn't damage the story that much, though

Summary: Fed up, Angel sends Conner to Sunnydale to reside with one of the people he trusts the most: Buffy. Unfortunately, casa Summers is already bustling with it's own problems, the largest one being a soulful but wacked-out houseguest named Spike. Put the frazzled slayer, the brooding son of her former lover, the hallucinating vampire pawn of the Big Bad and all the other colorful locals of Sunnydale into one house and what do you get? Chaos is not a large enough word.

Rating: PG-13 for language and adult situations.

Pairings: B/S, D/C

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Prologue: Exiled From the City of Angels

Downtown Los Angeles was in ruins, but the rain of fire ceased; all that remained of the shower were smoking bits of earth where the flickering meteor-like streamers hit. The air was thick with the wailing noise of the people and sirens. But Angel didn't notice any of it. All his yellow-glinted eyes could see was the bed in front of him where two writhing bodies grasped each other with dancer-like movements. The all-consuming apocalypse had nothing on him; the rage he felt inside could turn millions of cities asunder. He made a furtive step towards the two lovers and felt his face turn hard and bumpy as he continued to watch them move together, sighing small little moans to each other. But he willed his demon visage down and roughly threw a charred head at them.

They both looked up when they heard the thud upon the floor and stared down at head, barely indistinguishable from all its burns. One thing was clearly noticeable, though. Atop the demon's decapitated head were horns. This was the end to the end that they feared.

Cordelia was the first to speak. She gathered the crumpled sheets around herself futilely, as if to cover up what she had done. "Oh God. Angel."

He stared at her, clenching his teeth. "It's over. The world's not ending," was all he said.

Conner looked up at his father and it was the first time Angel ever saw his son truly scared. Almost instinctively, he edged away from Cordelia in the bed. "How?"

Angel's voice was unrelentingly stony. "Just something I remembered from Sunnydale. Remember the Judge, Cordy?"

Stiffly, she nodded. But the Judge was the last thing on everybody's mind and they all knew it.

"Yeah, well it was the same deal. Rocket launcher, no weapons forged kind of thing. I thought of it, Wesley found it. And here you were all worried." He sounded less than reassuring.

Cordelia saw the yellow fire behind his eyes and knew what was coming. She got up and raised a passive hand. "Angel, before you start, wait, I can explain------"

"Cordy, can you leave us alone? I want to speak to my son now."

"Please, Angel," she implored him. "Listen to what I have to say first-----"

"I said leave!"

She had never heard him so angry. Casting an anxious glance at Conner, she wrapped the sheets around herself tighter and left the room. Conner sat upright and tried to feign sanctimonious indifference, but Angel could smell the fear on him. Sighing, Angel sat on the bed and stared at his son blankly.

"We didn't mean for it to happen----" Conner started.

His father raised an eyebrow. "We?" He said the word like it was a barb to his tongue.

"You can't say you're angry about this," he replied with a rebellious scowl. "Cordelia said she didn't want to be with you. She wanted to be with me. She made her choice."

Angel was silent, but nodded his head quietly. After a few moments, he finally spoke. "I want you gone Conner."

Conner had already put on his clothes and marched around the room self-righteously. "No. No, you can't make me."

"Can't make you? I'm your father."

"Like hell you are! You're just some freak who's not even alive!"

"And you're my son who dumped me in the ocean for three months." He sighed. "I love you Conner. You're my son. I'll always love you. But having you here is destroying yourself and destroying me. I want you out of my home, out of my city."

"Just because she wanted to be with me instead of you----"

"Conner." He didn't alter in severity or intonation. He looked up at Conner and his son could tell he was as serious as a heart attack. "I want you gone," he repeated.

"I won't go . . . You can't make me leave. I'm eighteen. That means I'm an adult in this world. I can take care of myself."

"And how have you been taking care of yourself, Conner? Holing yourself in abandoned buildings or shelters? Creeping around Los Angeles, coming out only to slay at night? That's no kind of life."

"But it's my life!"

"You need family. The kind that obviously, I can't provide."

"And where would you expect me to go?" he challenged.

Angel thought for a second. "Somewhere where you would have someone."

"I have people here. I don't want to leave."

"You should," a soft voice pierced the tension in the room, and Conner turned to Cordelia, who stood in the door looking shrunken and white. "Your father's right."

Conner stared at her, alarmed. "What?"

Still clutching the sheets like a Grecian dress, she neared Conner seriously. "It's better this way, baby. Things have suddenly gotten a lot more confusing. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I realized this was a mistake. I didn't want it to happen this way. I'm so sorry."

Conner felt lost and stung and lonely, the way he had the moment he first stepped out of the portal from Quartoth. "Don't say that-----"

"She said it," Angel replied firmly. Cordy began to cry, but Angel tried to reach for Conner's shoulder. He shook him off with fury.

"Don't touch me," he spat. He turned back to Cordelia, his heart visibly shattered. "You really want me to leave?"

Cordelia hesitated as tears streamed down her face. With one kiss and one night, her life had suddenly gotten a lot messier. Maybe she was being selfish in thinking that having him gone would suddenly clean it up, but she still said it. "Yes."

He stared at her as if she had smacked him across the face. But he would never refuse to oblige her. So his overwhelming love turned to hate as he snarled:

"Fine."

TBC…..I should hope. I know it's kind of short and a little undeveloped, but I'll post the next chapter, which brings the story to Sunnydale. If I don't get enough reviews by that time, I probably won't continue. Not to say that's a threat, lol. I just wanted to see if this kind of story would garner any interest.

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